- Home
- Gena Showalter
Red Handed Page 8
Red Handed Read online
Page 8
"Yes," I said, excited by the thought. It was just so...bad, yet would be totally legal when doing it as an agent. Too cool.
"Hell yeah," Kitten said.
Slowly Mia grinned. I guess she liked our enthusiasm. "I suggest you study the map inside your manual, as well. I will not be giving you a tour of the rest of the building. You'll be expected to learn and memorize the layout on your own because you'll be expected to memorize the cities you enter and the prey you stalk on your own." She didn't wait for our response, but strode into my new room.
Curious about the place I would now call home, I followed quickly. It was small but clean, with two stiff-looking beds, two plain, silver dressers, two silver desks, and a bathroom with a toilet, mirror, and dry-enzyme shower stall.
"There are clothes for each of you in the dresser. Standard uniform of white pants and top."
"Yipp-eeee," Kitten muttered. "Uniforms."
"You may write your family, but be advised that all correspondence will be monitored." She spread her arms wide. "If you have any questions, there is a manual inside the top left drawer of your desk. I suggest you read it. Memorize it."
"Sure thing," I said.
She turned to Kitten. "You're going to spend the next two minutes sprinting in the hall."
"Wait. What? I--"
"Go!" Mia snapped.
Kitten leapt into action, running into the hallway.
Now Mia looked to me. "I suggest you fill the cup. I've bought you two minutes. Whether you're done or not--"
I didn't hear the rest. I was racing into the bathroom. As quickly as I could, I filled and capped the cup, righted my clothing, and strode back into the room. Mia was wearing gloves, I noticed. She took the cup, her gaze locked on mine.
"You'd better not let me down."
"I won't." I hoped.
Panting, Kitten raced back into the room. "All...done." She hunched over, anchoring her elbows on her knees. "What was that for?"
"Question me again and you'll run for an hour straight. See you around, girls." Mia strode from the room, the door shutting behind her.
"What have we gotten ourselves into?" I breathed.
"I'm not sure yet." Kitten fell onto one of the beds. "If I figure it out, I'll let you know."
7
Page one of the A.I.R. Trainee manual
Dear A.I.R. trainee,
Half of you will be sent home before the end of the first month, your memories wiped. Another half will be sent home the second month. For now, you're here. Forget everything you've heard about A.I.R. Forget every "self-defense" move you've learned. Basically, forget everything the outside world has taught you. It means nothing here. Less than nothing, actually, because what you think you know will get you killed in this new world.
The real world.
Does that scare you? If not, you're stupid. You don't yet have the necessary skills to protect yourself from the elusive enemy that walks--and hunts--among us. Hopefully by the end of this year-long training program you will. Here you will fight with your hands, with your mind, with every weapon imaginable, and even some that aren't.
You will become a deadly weapon.
Will you be allowed to kill and strike indiscriminately? No. An A.I.R. agent's job is to find and stop the aliens who are predatory, destructive. But only those. The rest you will leave alone.
A.I.R. was formed to protect humans. That, more than anything, is our job.
You were chosen for this program because you have demonstrated potential, bravery, and the right temperament. Which means the rest of the world already finds you too wild, too undisciplined, and too violent.
Even though we admire those qualities, do not make the mistake of thinking you will be unfettered here. You'll endure more rules and regulations than ever before--and you will obey them, probably for the first time in your life. If not, you will be punished severely.
Pray you never find out what I mean by that.
Let us begin with a few of the abovementioned rules.
1. Do not attempt to leave the building without permission.
2. Girls do not enter the boys' barracks and boys do not enter the girls'. No exceptions.
3. Relationships between trainees and trainers are prohibited. You are legally an adult, yes, but you will not date or have any type of sexual relationship with the instructors.
4. Do not use drugs. This includes: Onadyn in all its incarnations: Snow Angels, Breathless, Nose Candy, Puffs, and Flyers. All forms of cocaine, the White Pony, Whiz, Liquid Gold, Rush, Iron Brew, Jellies, Vallies, Chronic, Dragon Rocks, Doves, X, marijuana, or any other upper, dower, mixed, blended powder, liquid, or puffer not mentioned that will impair your judgment in any way. If you get sick, go to the clinic here. Do not self-medicate.
5. Do not be late to class for any reason.
We operate on a strike-three basis. Break one rule, you will be punished--severely as I mentioned above. Break two rules, you will be punished. Once again, the punishment will be severe. But if you break three rules, your memory will be wiped and you will be returned home.
And know this, if you break a rule you will be caught. My eyes are everywhere.
Good luck and welcome.
Boss
Page two
The map. (Or rather, maze.) Building after building, all connected through intricate hallways and more hallways. There were classrooms, barracks for both boys and girls, two Commons, many restricted areas, a gym, a weapons room, an interrogation room (just the thought made my stomach hurt), and an observation room.
Page three
Things to do in your spare time:
Exercise. Stamina is important.
Study your notes from class. A sharp mind is important.
Practice handling your pyre-gun. A steady hand is important. Be careful not to shoot your teammates.
Practice sparring. Being able to take down an opponent is important.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. Those were the things we should do with our spare time? Interesting that they didn't mention slapping each other around or knifing each other while we slept. Hurting and killing were important. Right?
Groaning, I flipped the page.
Page four
Classes you will attend over the next year:
Alien anatomy
Alien biology
Weapons of the world--and otherworlds
Combat
Alien history and sociology
Breaking and entering
The art of stalking
Alien races and relations
Global governments
Interrogation
Computer sciences
With a weary sigh, I put the manual aside and lay down. "Lights out," I muttered. Instantly the light on my side of the room dimmed, throwing the room into pitch black. Most of the day had wasted away, anyway, and Kitten was already asleep. She and I had talked for hours, getting to know each other better. The more I learned about her, the more I liked.
She was playful, witty, and loyal. She came from a big family and I could see the affection in her eyes every time she mentioned her sisters and brothers. If they needed her, she'd do anything and everything to get to them.
I was a little envious. I'd always wanted a sister, but my mom hadn't remarried or even dated since my dad left. She worked and took care of me, and that was about it. Maybe my dad had had another kid with his new wife. I could very well have a sister or brother I didn't know about. Since leaving us, he hadn't even called.
A sharp pain tore through me with the thought.
Just go to sleep. For the next few hours, I tossed and turned, unable to settle. I was wearing unfamiliar clothes, stiff and a little snug. The mattress was firmer than mine at home, and the blanket lacked the fresh smell I was used to. The room was too dark, the only hint of light coming from the wall clock. I could hear Kitten's soft exhalations and purrs.
My mind raced as pieces of the "welcome" letter in the manual continually took cent
er stage. If I broke three rules, my memory would be wiped. How much of my memory, though? Everything or just camp? Everything might not be such a bad thing. I thought I might like starting from scratch, with nothing of the past to taint my thoughts.
Still. I hadn't known something like that was possible.
I'd decided to stay here for now. But I didn't like rules--never had--and didn't like the thought of being so constrained. And so...punished if I failed.
I expelled a deep sigh and forced myself to think of anything other than A.I.R. Of course, my mom was the first thing that popped into my head. What was she dreaming of just then? Did she even miss me?
When I was a little girl, she'd held me close and sung me to sleep every night. She'd baked me breakfast every morning, smiling all the while. She'd been so happy. So carefree. Then my dad had left. Then I started doing drugs. All her happiness seemed to vanish. All the cares of the world seemed to settle on her shoulders.
At least I'd had Jamie to lean on, as bad an influence as she'd been. My mom had had no one when she should have had me.
God, I owed her so much. Tears burned my eyes.
Okay. Now I couldn't think about her, either.
Think about Ryan... his sexy image sprang into my mind, making me shiver. Relationships between trainer and trainee were forbidden, the manual had said, but that didn't stop me from hoping he found me half as attractive as I found him. I would have liked to kiss him. Just once. With tongue, his arms--
Suddenly all the lights in the room flashed on, extremely bright to my eyes, which had become attuned to the dark. The beige walls came into focus, the metallic dresser. A mirror. I saw my reflection: rumpled, long blond hair. Sleep-heavy brown eyes. Swollen lips. I'd chewed them the entire time I'd lain awake, I guess, not realizing I was doing it.
"Kitten and Phoenix," a computerized voice said.
Kitten jolted upright, her gaze wild as she looked around. "What happened? What's wrong?" Her voice was scratchy.
"Your presence is required in room three A. You have ten minutes," the computer finished.
Groaning, I eased up and rubbed a hand over my face. "I wonder what they're going to do to us."
"Or what they'll make us do," Kitten grumbled. She threw her legs over the side of her bed. "What time is it?"
I glanced at the digital clock and its flashing red numbers. "Three a.m."
"What?" She frowned. "You're kidding."
"Look for yourself."
She did. Her frown deepened. "That's insanity! Who gets up at three a.m.?"
"Apparently we do." I lumbered out of bed. We took turns in the dry shower, the enzyme spray cleaning us in seconds. We hurriedly brushed our teeth and hair before studying the mazelike map in the manual.
"We should have studied this more carefully before bed," she mumbled.
"Note to self," I said. "Listen to Mia Snow when she speaks."
"Three A," Kitten said, tapping a long, pointed nail on her chin. "Looks like that's like four halls over. We'll never make it in time."
"Crap. We can't break a rule on our first day."
"Well, we've only got three minutes."
"Then let's haul ass!" Determination filled me. "Come on." I raced to the door and commanded it to open.
"What will the assholes who run this place do if we get lost?" Kitten said behind me. "Choke us with our own intestines?"
I didn't want to find out. "Being late is probably worse than committing murder."
"We'll never make it," she repeated.
"Yes, we will."
We rushed into the hall and maneuvered through the unfamiliar passage. As we ran, Kitten fastened her multicolored hair into a ponytail.
Unlike the walls in the interview room, these hall walls were blue with posters taped throughout. THE FEW, THE PROUD, AND THE BADASS, one of them read. IT'S NOT HOW YOU DO IT, IT'S THE END RESULT THAT COUNTS, another said.
Surprisingly, there were other girls in the hallways, hustling from one room to another. No one said a word to us or even glanced in our direction. They were too focused, too hurried to reach their own destination.
Finally we found a door that had a large black 3A over the top. After a quick hand scan, we were able to enter. Mia Snow stood at the head of the room, her arms locked behind her back.
"You're late," she said. "And that's not a good way to start the program. You're lucky I don't kick you out right now."
"We're not late," I told her through clenched teeth, trying not to pant. "It's three ten."
Her dark brows arched. "If someone is six seconds late, they are...what?"
"Late," Kitten and I muttered together.
"I told you to study the map."
"We did," Kitten said. "Kind of."
I had glanced at it last night, but I hadn't tried to memorize it. Too complicated, I'd thought. I wouldn't make that mistake again. I would learn.
Mia's response was a commanding, "On the floor. Now!"
I looked at Kitten, and she looked at me. On the floor? Seriously?
"I didn't say stare at each other." There was violence in Mia's tone. "I said drop."
We dropped.
A minute passed in silence before Mia said anything else. She glanced down at her nails, suddenly radiating a breezy air. "I'm feeling magnanimous today. I'm going to watch you do twenty-five push-ups, twenty-five sit-ups, and twenty-five knee bends. Start."
"Are you kidding me?" Kitten gasped out.
"Make that fifty." Mia arched a brow. "Anything else you'd like to say?"
The words "help me" and "oh my God" came to mind. I remained quiet, though, and forced myself into motion. By the time I finished, I was a sweaty, burning, shaking mess. I'd never done so much exercise in my life. Kitten breezed through it as if she'd worked out her entire life.
I was beyond jealous.
"You're slow, Phoenix, and I expect improvement next time."
Next time? I barely cut off my moan. "I'll do better."
"Make sure of it," was her clipped response. "By the way, you passed the test."
A pause. "What test?" Kitten asked.
"I wasn't talking to you," Mia snapped.
No, she'd been talking to me. I'd passed the drug test. Thank God.
"Make sure you pass the next one, as well, or I will be very upset."
I gulped and nodded, not glancing in Kitten's direction.
"Sit, both of you." Even issuing orders in the middle of the night, Mia was still as pretty as a ballerina. Her hair gleamed darkly in the light, like black silk. Her face was smooth, her eyes bright. Did the woman not need to sleep?
Both Kitten and I sat on the floor, right where we were. I sent my gaze throughout the room. It was like every classroom I'd ever been inside and that surprised me. I guess I'd expected guns and knives to be hanging on the walls. A mat for fighting, maybe. Not math equations projected from holoscreens. Not desks and chairs.
"At a desk, girls," Mia said with a roll of her eyes.
Kitten and I scurried to the desks at the head of the class and sat like good little frightened robots.
"Now, then. Welcome to orientation." Mia sounded calm and emotionless once again. She locked her hands behind her back. "I bet you're wondering why you were called out of bed this early in the morning on your first day here." She paced in front of us.
I nodded. Kitten did, as well. Neither one of us spoke. It wasn't that I was intimidated by Mia--okay, I was--but because I was awed by her. She was fluid and graceful, lithe, as she moved. What's more, she was lethal in a way I hadn't realized before. Every few seconds, she dropped her hands to her side and fingered the hilt of a blade strapped to her waist.
"You're here at this hour because most A.I.R. agents work at night. Yes, some work during the day, just like cops, because law is needed even in the daylight. But our sun is too strong and too damaging for a lot of otherworlders, so most crimes happen at night. You need to learn to embrace this hour."
I nodded again, even though
a part of me wanted to leave the room. Sure I was fascinated by what she was saying--I hadn't known aliens were sensitive to our sunlight--but I resented being taught this way, as if we needed permission to take our next breath.
Kindness wouldn't have killed her.
"While your regular classes will begin later today, you will first watch videos of alien crimes. You will watch how A.I.R. agents successfully--and at times, unsuccessfully--hunted and fought their targets. Watch closely. Learn."
"Have you killed?" I asked, finding my voice.
She nodded without hesitation. "Many times."
"Do you regret it?"
Again, she didn't hesitate. "I don't regret a single action I've taken. It will be best for you if you come to terms with what you must do now rather than later. Emotions will weaken you. They will distract you." She shoved back the sleeve of her shirt, revealing the length of her arm.
The first thing I noticed was a tattoo of the Grim Reaper's scythe. It stretched across her arm from wrist to elbow, a black talisman. The second thing I noticed was the long, puckered scar that slashed beside it.
"Ooohh," Kitten breathed.
"Predatory otherworlders," Mia said, "will not hesitate to kill you. Or your family. Do not hesitate to kill them first." She dropped the sleeve and lifted a remote from the granite counter behind her, then pressed a button. Images began flashing over the far holoscreen.
Violent images. Bloody images. People fighting creatures I'd never seen before, in ways I'd never seen before. My mouth dropped open. It was a lethal dance of blades and guns and fists. Of teeth and claws and fury.
Of crimson blood, of black blood.
A couple of times I heard Kitten gasp. I glanced over at her, if only to escape the screen for a moment. Her face was pale. She'd been so happy at the prospect of fighting only a few hours earlier. Probably before she realized that death would come of it. Maybe hers.
I wasn't horrified like I probably should have been. Scared, yeah. That, I had in spades. Who wouldn't, with new knowledge of alien powers--mind control, walking through walls, teleporting. Not to mention the guns and knives, claws and teeth.
Like I'd told Ryan, I was willing to do anything to protect my mom from these things. I wanted, finally, to be a girl she could be proud of. I wanted to make up for all the times I'd told her that her job as a waitress was meaningless and that what she did for me wasn't enough. I'd only ever caused havoc and emotional pain to those around me. If I decided to see this A.I.R. thing through, could finally change that. Excitement bubbled inside me at the thought. For once, I could be a hero.